» whiskey bottles piling high, private

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  Mac was very pleased that Hammy was home. He was also pleased with Roxana's return, but that was slightly more frightening. She was very pregnant now, and they were continuing their ruse of marriage. He wondered how long it would last - or if anyone would really try to unmask them, because the MacFustys scandals had lost most of their fascination from the public. (Or at least Mac thought so. He didn't really go out in public often, either.)

He had mostly refrained from assaulting Hammy with his obnoxiousness so far. That would end today, though. The dragons were peaceful, Roxana was out, and he had a full bottle of whiskey. It was perfect, and so he apparated onto Hammy's doorstep and slammed his fist on the wood.

Ideally, Hammy would be home. If he wasn't, Mac would be breaking in and drinking on Hamish's floor until his brother got home. He had a plan, you see.

"HAMISH AIDAN MACFUSTY!" he shouted, "OPEN YOUR DOOR RIGHT NOW!" He supposed there was a chance that Hammy's door was unlocked, but what was the fun in that? Much better to assault his brother with his presence and then vault through a window or something.

Priorities.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

Hammy had done a lot of sleeping since getting home from the trail. It was nice to sleep in his own bed and not have Peruvian Vipertooths and veela or anything else to worry about. He was secure in his house, Caylith was still hiding in her lair. Still just as itchy and irritable as she had been when he left. If Hamish didn't know that a molting could last almost a year, he'd be worried, but she was always growing so damn much that if this wasn't over by his birthday, then he'd get concerned. Fortunately, she was still young and this was not her first molt, nor would it be her last.

He had currently been half-dozing on his couch. His trail notes scattered around him as he was trying to organize them for his rendezvous with Violet later in the week. The redhead was on his mind in his mostly dreaming state and it brought a goofy grin to his face. He had been surprised that after the trauma of the trail she would not want to readily see him so soon, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. Hammy was excited to chat with her again, having grown fond of her company on the trail. Not to mention she fancied herself to be an author, well, he could help make that happen. It would be great fun, not to mention a fantastic way to spend some more time with Violet and get to know her better...

His pleasant dreams were shattered by the banging and shouting coming from his door. For half a second, the yelling of his full name startled him, thinking his mother was there, but no, he recognized the voice to be Mac's. "It's open DAMMIT." He hollered in response to his younger brother, sitting up and gathering his notes in some semblance of an order. "What can I do for you bastard-fathering brother of mine?" He greeted Mac with a sound slap on the back and took the bottle of whiskey from his brother. He had missed Mac while on the trail, though his brother's pseudo-wife was on the trail with him. Got him out of a pinch with some veela too... "You brought drink, well done." He said after a moment, a grin on his face.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  Mac let out a loud laugh as Hammy shouted back. He should have known it would be open - the MacFustys had little to fear from robbers, living on a series of islands inhabited by vicious dragons that only barely tolerated them at the best of times. He pushed open the door, hip checked it back closed, and walked over to Hammy. He didn't wince at the slap, something his twelve-year-old self probably would have been proud of, and gave Hammy a mostly-light punch in the arm in turn. He was not pleased to lose the whiskey bottle.

"You can be entertaining," he said, "Because there's nothing to do in my house and I am bored." Mac hated being bored. Boredom usually led to him playing a game of 'fetch' with one of the dragons, and that wasn't healthy or productive or social. Calling on his brother was - slightly more productive and definitely more social, he guessed. Besides: Hammy was one of two people that he had actually told about Roxana, and it was a bit refreshing. (Of course, how many people Hammy and Tav had told was a different thing entirely, but Mac wasn't concerned with that. At least, not yet.)

Mac thought they needed a family meeting. Maybe he would propose the idea later, maybe not. (Actually, probably not, because the formidable Abigail MacFusty would be at such a meeting and in an excellent position to beat him to death with a parasol.)

Mac reached for the bottle before promptly giving up. "I did," he said, shifting backwards and forwards on his feet. He looked around. "What's with all the papers, Hammy?" he asked, sitting down on the couch. "Are you writing a diary?" He smirked and just barely resisted the urge to start rifling through the papers. For one thing, that would be rude, for another, his curiosity was still outweighed by his urge to not get hit by his older brother.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

Growing up in such a large family, Hamish couldn't honestly remember a time in his life when he was bored. There had always been somebody to play with, or pester or something to do. They lived on a series of islands in the middle of nowhere, they had free reign as long as they left the dragons alone. As they got older and his brothers moved out, got married and started their occupational responsibilities the playmates and things to do ran low and that's where the boredom set in. Being one of the oldest siblings meant Hammy didn't really have to deal with that, but he was sure Mac had. It was why they always randomly popped up at one another's homes and the door was always open.

Needless to say, he could sympathize with Mac and the need for company. "Entertaining," Hammy scoffed at Mac as he opened the whiskey and grabbed two glasses from his kitchen. "I am always entertaining. I was however, sleeping and therefore, I'm probably dragging." Hammy was still catching up on his sleep from the trail. He hadn't slept solidly the entire time and it had certainly caught up with him the moment he had gotten home. "Nothing to do," Hammy chuckled this time. "How's the wife?" He teased. Whatever it was that Mac and Roxana were playing at, the truth was going to have to come out sooner or later.

"And no, nosy Nate, I am not writing a diary. I'm co-writing a story about the expedition." Resuming his seat on the couch, Hamish poured two glasses of whiskey and set the bottle down. He would be surprised if they didn't finish that one and move onto one in his own cupboard. "You're fiery Spaniard saved my arse on the trail, did she tell you that? We met some veela on the trail, naturally I was sucked in..." Hamish had been more than sucked in; he'd been completely seduced. After taking a sip of his whiskey, he continued. "Gave me a right smart smack and I woke up. Got a nice scratch on my back too." He mused aloud. It had been nothing compared to anything Caylith had ever given him. "We were fortunate in injuries, just my back and Violet's ankle." Hamish took another sip of his whiskey and pushed away from the subject. "How was your expedition anyway Maccom?" He questioned.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  "Pfftch, sleep," Mac scoffed. "Sleep is boring." An odd line coming from him, because Mac slept just as much as normal people, just at weird times. That was partially because he needed to be active when the dragons were, partially because he liked noontime naps and was fond of drinking late at night, and partially because he could. He could make his own schedule, damnit! And naps were very nice.

"The wife is pissed at me," he said, "Because she got larger, and I made my shocked face, an' now I'm waiting for her to write me because she is terrifying." From what he remembered, pregnancy hormones were not a good thing, and Roxana was volatile enough already. Besides - she had slammed the door in his face. Mac was still nursing that one off. His precious pride had been harmed.

The 'married' thing might be a little harder to pull off than he had thought. Would Roxana have to move to the Hebridean Islands? He wasn't sure that either of them would survive that.

Hammy's life was much more interesting. Mac grinned and exclaimed, "A story!" Mac, being an enthusiast of legends, loved stories. Probably more than he should have, hnow that he thought about it. He listened to Hammy's brief tale, interested enough to keep from speaking yet. He took a sip of his whiskey, grinned, and launched right back into talking.

Like Mac would shut up for long anyways. "She didn't tell me that," he said, "actually, last time I saw her we didn't really talk. She kicked me out after I made the face." He squirmed uncomfortably for a second. "But veela! That's special." Mac had never met a veela. He bet they were good in bed.

Not the point, Malcolm. Right. Veelas were terrifying and evil and had scratched his brother. It was good to know that Roxana could vanquish them, though. "My expedition was non-existent," he said, grinning. "Unless you count keeping an eye on things for you idgits, in which case, that was brilliant."

"Who are you writing your story with, anyways?" he asked. "Is it this-" he wriggled his eyebrows "-Violet?" He hoped Hamish had a lady friend - that would be hilarious. Good material. He needed more material for teasing his big brother, as much as he hated to admit it.

Mac didn't really like that getting Roxana pregnant had knocked him into the position of 'least responsible MacFusty.'

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[Hamish MacFusty]

Hammy could only laugh loudly at his brother's predicament. While it was unfair of him to do so, he couldn't really help it. Hammy knew Mac could be a bonehead sometimes, in all reality he expected that he would father the first MacFusty bastard. Well, it was a pretty even chance between Hamish and Mac, but still Hammy wasn't always that responsible. "That's your fault Maccom, you should always just say, 'you look beautiful.' And that should be the end of it. Even I know that." Hamish was too much of a flirt not to know that.

When Mac reminded him that he had in fact been here, tending the dragons instead of out on the trail, Hammy laughed at himself and shook it his head. It had been Roddy and... Tav who went out on the trail? Possibly, not to mention Grizz, but it appeared everybody had come home safely. "Ah right, I forget which of us got drafted. It's a wonder Ma can keep us all straight. Well, you'll have to ask the wife about saving my hide sometime, you know, after you tell her how beautiful she looks." He chuckled this time, after taking a sip of his whiskey. Hamish almost sputtered into his whiskey when Mac put two and two together. It was unusual for his younger brother to be so observant. He did have too much time on his hands, it appeared.

"Miss Ollivander and I are making a joint effort to chronicle the trail adventure. She was in my group, that's all." Hamish explained diplomatically, trying not to sound as smitten by her as he really was. It was strange to think about really. The two of them had met at the Three Broomsticks in a rather improper fashion. He had found her there, drunk and crying at the bar and he instantly felt for her. Buying her dinner to sober her up was completely irresponsible, considering there seemed to be Daily Prophet spies everywhere, but it had not come back to bit him in the ass as of yet. Then the trail, they spent so much unchaperoned time, well there were other group members with them, so it wasn't like they were alone, but it still wasn't normal. Now they were planning to write a book together. All in all, not how a courtship would go, but right now it was a friendship. Who knew what would come it after that. Besides, there was a very minimal chance that she actually took him seriously anyway.

"It's good to have a couple point of views when considering publishing a book you know." He reasoned again, polishing off his glass of whiskey and pouring another one. "Anything exciting happen with the family while I was away? I feel like I've been disconnected." It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, considering the company he had on the trail.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  Mac rolled his eyes and sipped his whiskey, deciding that ignoring Hammy's advice was the best course of action. He grinned when Hammy admitted the connection to 'Miss Ollivander', and put his whiskey down just so that he could punch his brother in the arm. Lightly, because he was going to have to punch himself in the face if the whiskey was spilled.

"Nothing much happened," he said. "Vina is imprisoned by our grandmother. I drank with Tav a couple times, too." Mac wondered if (one of) his oldest brothers was going to get married soon. Tor wasn't either, but that was because Tor was depressed because of what's-her-face still. The blonde one. Mac was still upset that his attempts at matchmaking the twins had failed - maybe they'd have to get a Group Effort together. "Oh, and Mordred tried to set my face on fire and missed. Fun times all around."

His first cup of whiskey was killed off. Mac poured himself another one, debating choices. Option A - harass Hamish about details of his book-thing. Option B - harass Hamish about Miss Violet Ollivander. He supposed there was also C - challenge Hamish to a drinking contest, or D, play drunken exploding snap, but they paled in comparison to the first two. He crossed them off the list and thought for a second.

Were there really two choices, in the end? Well yes, of course there were - but he was Malcolm MacFusty, and one of them was clearly superior in terms of mockery. And he had been listening to Hamish talk about Roxana for a while, he needed new material and he was (almost) being offered it. (Not really.)

"Is Miss Ollivander pretty?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows at Hammy and taking a sip of the whiskey. Mac was nothing if not a pain in the ass. "I mean, from a writer's perspective." Oh, this was just too much fun. When Roxana decided to talk to him he was going to have to ask her about the woman. For research.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

So it seemed nothing major had happened while he was away. Though Vina's imprisonment by their grandmother was a little troublesome. Just what had his baby sister done to earn THAT particular punishment? It was not something that happened by chance. Getting sent to the matriarch of the MacFusty clan could only be caused by a serious offence. "What landed Vina with Grams?" He questioned before Malcolm could press him for details about Violet.

Why had he known that Mac would be unable to let that go? Of course it wasn't often Hamish actually mentioned a girl. While he was not an innocent man, it wasn't often than his family knew of his indiscretions or the women involved. Not that anything less than respectable had happened in Violet's company, other than the fact that he spent the last bit of their journey essentially half-naked because of his Veela scratch. At the time there was little else he could do for it other than wash it and let it breathe. Had he let his shirt get in the way there was no doubt it would have gotten infected and that could have really been annoying.

"She's quite attractive, if you must know." Hamish had always had a thing for redheads. "But that has nothing to do with writing a book." Of course, choosing Violet as his co-conspirator for this novel rather than anybody else in their group was not a subconscious choice. Ever since he had found there at the bar of the Three Broomsticks, crying into her wine, she had intrigued him. She was a young, petite thing, with her whole life ahead of her and the trail had put a potential halt to that. He couldn't blame her for the way she reacted, though her choice of where to do it was questionable. Had somebody else with less honorably intentions gotten to her first... No that was looking on the negative side, something Hammy to avoid doing if he could. "If you're going to push me for details here they are. She's young, twenty-two if I remember right, she teaches charms at the school so the youngin's no doubt know her and that's about all I have to tell you." Hamish rolled his eyes, though he was grinning as he took a sip of whiskey.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  "Remember the thing with the Prophet wench?" Mac said, scoffing. Was he drunk? Maybe a little bit. Mostly he just liked to use the word wench, especially when it was referring to someone he wasn't fond of. (Of course, when he was drunk enough, he started calling everyone 'wench' or something similar, but that was beside the point.) Mac took another little sip of his whiskey. "Well, they expelled Vina because of it, the bastards. And that's all I know of it - messing with Gramma isn't one of my hobbies." He'd get a chance to actually talk to his sister eventually. Probably. Or he'd get up the nerve to kidnap her away from the formidable and much feared Abigail MacFusty, whichever happened first. Mac didn't like to play prediction games, especially not with himself.

Sipping down the rest of his whiskey, Mac almost choked on it from laughing at Hammy. He waited until he had regained control of his lungs to start speaking again. Patience was a virtue, especially when one was poking fun at one's siblings. "I'll bet she's attractive," he said, taking on a borderline-obnoxious self-satisfied tone. "And a professor?" he said, stifling more laughter. This was the best thing he had heard in a while. He ignored her age, just noting that whoever she was, she must have been about two years behind him in school. Maybe three. Either way Mac didn't remember her, although he hadn't really socialized with anyone that wasn't a silly Gryffindor. And silly Gryffindors rarely ever became Professors. Or at least not very good ones.

Mac leaned against his brother. "Wait wait wait," he said. "Is she the daughter of the grumpy wand lord? Y'know, the one with the face?" He waved his hand in a weird, nonsensical motion and poured himself another glass of whiskey. Mac took a sip from it before continuing. "Because if so, we'd scare the hell out of her." Well, that wasn't exactly a fair statement. The MacFustys scared the hell out of just about everyone.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

Hamish figured the more whiskey he drank, the less likely he would be able to keep from blathering all about the trail and Violet, but since he was already a good three glasses in at this point, it was hard to stop himself now.

Frowning as Mac explained about Vina, Hamish wasn't sure how he had missed all of this. Of course the trail had gotten in the way and he was known to be a bit of a scatter brain (his mother said it was because he was a creative person) but he supposed anything that had happened at the end of April or beginning of May had been eclipsed by the Trail. He'd have to go to check in with Vina and make sure she was alright. He knew having been kicked out of school was a blessing and curse for Vina. While she wasn't as scholarly as some of their siblings, Hammy hadn't been either so he could see how that wouldn't bother her too much. However, not completing her education was something that wasn't entirely acceptable in today's society. Now that he thought about, he remembered the article in the Prophet, but he hadn't been overly worried about it. Was it smart of he>, Absolutely not. Did he believe any of it? Nope, not a lick.

Hammy made a mental note to write to his sister, but the conversation had turned back to Violet and Hamish shook his head. He supposed he deserved it. Hammy had tortured Mac over Roxana and now he was getting it back in the face. "I suppose so, there aren't that many Ollivanders around, I don't suppose." Come to think of it, he had gone to school with an Ollivander, must have been one of Violet's brothers? He could only assume as much.

Now there was something Hammy had not thought of, though he had spoken of his family often on the trail (there were a lot of stories to tell there), but he also couldn't make the assumption anything would come out of it. If he did make some progress with Violet, which he sincerely wanted, he would have to take care in introducing her to his family. Perhaps one at a time, that would be easier. When all together, they could be very overwhelming and he knew Violet was pretty timid for the most part. "Of course you guys don't make introducing anybody to the family easy." Hammy laughed, draining another glass of whiskey. Then again Roxana, with all of her fiery Spanish influence fit right in, strangely enough, Hammy did not fear for her at family parties at all.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  "Neat," Mac said, thinking of the grumpy wand salesman. While his own wand - Hornbeam, gryffin feather, ten inches in length - was perfectly tuned to him, that didn't mean he had to be fond of the person who had sold it to him. Mister Ollivander, while a decent wandsman, (in Mac's rather un-knowledgable opinion), hadn't seemed very nice. He wasn't the sort of person Mac would have wanted as a father, at any rate. He pitied Miss Violet Ollivander without even knowing her - he figured it was the whiskey, or maybe that she had broken her ankle on the damned trail.

Mac scoffed at Hammy's next words, even though he knew that they were true. Like he had said, the MacFustys could be quite terrifying to anyone who wasn't used to them - but that didn't mean he wasn't about to go into a rant about how great they were. Malcolm Macaulay was nothing if not entirely unreasonable. (He blamed the alliteration and the fact that his initials spelled 'mmm,' even though it was just Mac being a frackin' weirdo.) Rants were fun, at any rate, and who was he to take them away from himself?

"Pfft, we're great," he said, waving his hand. "We fight against society's boundaries, one dragon at a time! We don't involve ourselves in the bureaucracy! We teach people to be themselves!" He was clearly bullshitting, here, even if he was yelling. His shoulders shook with the effort to stay 'in character' for the duration of his rant. "We are freedom fighters in a world of.... um.... SHEEP!" Okay, so he had lost his wind there, but whatever. It was all very fun. "I don't know, man. We're pretty fuckin' weird." And that was putting it mildly. All of them were - in Mac's mind, at least - completely insane.

Surely some of the siblings were more normal than he was, or at least less prone to obsessing over cards games where things exploded, but he didn't really think so. Maybe (probably) he was self-indulgent.

Mac leaned back into the couch. "Anyways, if you do introduce the Missus to us, I promise to be a gentleman," well.... "Maybe. Or at least not as mad as usual." It was about time Hammy brought home a lady, Mac thought. "...You should probably prep her first. Give her a packet on us." He was lucky his own ladything (or 'wife') was similarly crazy, because Mac did not envy Hamish on this one.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

The Missus Hammy rolled his eyes as Mac said that. Violet was not his missus, he wasn't even courting her though he was leaning toward it, they were friends and had a professional, working relationship. They were writing a book together, that was all, for the moment. "Yeah, we're great alright." Hammy shook his head, but smiled anyway. The MacFusty clan was one of kind. Despite the loud and obnoxious nature of Mac's little rant, he wasn't wrong. They were a pretty forward-thinking group. They did not necessarily bend to society's standards. They did their own thing, their house while yes, seemingly run by his father, was in all reality run by his mother and that in itself was strange for this time. They were quite the progressive family, despite the fact that their occupations were ancient.

Mac was right, they did at least behave like themselves rather than how society thought they should behave. He was sure that in civilized society they looked rather rough around the edges, but boy, out on that trail he had been glad he was rough around the edges. Hammy was used to the physicality of the trail, that was nothing new to him, he dealt with more on a daily basis. Though sleeping on the ground for weeks was not something he had done in a long time. When he was a younger man, it had been much easier, but this was a little tougher for him. That was an odd thought in itself. Twenty-nine was by no means old, but he hadn't really ever given courting or anything of the like a thought. He supposed he probably should. It was a wonder his mother hadn't started showing him around, sneaking in meetings with eligible ladies at functions and the like. Or maybe she had been, but he hadn't particularly noticed.

Laughing again as Mac mention that should he ever bring Violet around that he should prepare her first. It wasn't a bad idea, but Hammy, the forward thinking person that he was, was a step ahead of his younger brother. If things progressed that way with Violet, he would make sure she met his family one or two at a time and save a large family gathering for later on. There was no need to scare her off right away and that would certainly do it. "You sir are incapable of being a gentleman, of this I am certain." Hammy teased his brother, leaning his head back on the sofa, the whiskey kicking in as he swallowed another mouthful. "Ugh, we should find something to eat, wonder if Ma's around..." He trailed off.

[Malcolm Macfusty]

Malcolm MacFusty
:I’ve given up on giving up slowly, I’m blending in so you won’t even know me apart from this whole world that shares my fate this one last bullet you mention is my one last shot at redemption

  "I'm a perfect gentleman!" Mac said. "I've never even hired a prostitute," he said. "Well, except for that one time, but I was twelve and that was not my fault." Could he blame Hammy for that? Mac honestly couldn't remember - it had been twelve-odd years before, mostly he just remembered the horror. And the hoarse, increasingly hysteric yelling of all parties involved, and probably Griselda once she came to investigate. He had never, ever told a girl he had slept with this story - not even Roxana - and he probably never would. It was even more embarrassing than the duckling story, which he shared when he was really drunk and really bored at the same time.

He was a little bit scared of prostitutes now.

"Mmf, I haven't seen her in forever," Mac said. He had not quite connected this with the Trail yet, having been avoiding his mother anyways. Explaining Roxana was not high on his to-do list.

As soon as Hammy mentioned food, Mac realized he was vaguely hungry. "Hmmmn..." Okay, which of his brothers was married? It took him a minute to come up with one. He had a lot of brothers, and they weren't married in order of their ages, and to be honest, a lot of their weddings had blurred together. The ceremonies were all vaguely the same, the receptions all had a lot of whiskey, and sometimes women cried. Bridesmaids were sort of fun, though.

He sometimes wondered if MacFusty bridesmaids were different from regular bridesmaids. But he digressed.

"D'you think Roddy's wife would feed us?" he asked. "Because I want to apparate to the village 'bout as much as I want to stick a broomstick handle up my arse." He paused, lolled his head back. "And I think if we asked Satan - err, Una - and Sorcha's Mum she'd take the opportunity to kill us all." How Pip had ended up a good kid was one of the great mysteries of the ages.

He slumped further down the couch. "But I don't want to moooove." Moving was for losers. Mac would rather starve than move.

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[Hamish MacFusty]

Hammy laughed loudly at Mac's mention of the prostitute. "No, that was definitely my fault." He laughed again. He had been seventeen at the time and had no idea what he was doing. He couldn't even remember the specifics of the whole scenario but it had been a good laugh with lots of shouting involved. He was pretty sure his mother had threatened to feed him to a dragon that day, but not for the first time or the last. It was a common thing to hear in their family.

"You are no gentleman, Mr. Father of a Bastard to Be." He snorted, closing his eyes on the couch. He had consumed far too many glasses of whiskey on an empty stomach. Hamish Aidan MacFusty was by no means a lightweight, but considering he and Mac had polished off a bottle in the last half hour with no food in his stomach. Hammy hadn't seen his mother in a few days either, but that was no unusual. He was often holed up in his own house for days on end working on this or that.

"I doubt it." He replied with a slur as Mac mentioned Roddy's wife making them food. They really weren't supposed to be going around begging the girls for food, but it didn't stop them most of the time. What was stopping him was the fact that he didn't really want to get up, nor should he try traveling, even walking very far from his living room. "I've got to have something to snack on." He murmured, pointing toward the kitchen. "Bread, cheese, something." He waved his hand dismissively. It wasn't all that important, no he could definitely sit right here and fall asleep. "Get what you want." He said, finishing up the drink in his hand and setting the glass on the table. He clasped his hands behind his head and crossed his legs at the ankles. Yes, it could very easily be nap time.